


Falling Ass Over Head

by writesstuff



Series: Natural Occurrence or Fate [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cockblock!Stiles, I'M SORRY THERE IS NO SMUT, M/M, Teen Derek, The Hale Pack - Freeform, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-12
Updated: 2012-12-12
Packaged: 2017-11-20 23:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writesstuff/pseuds/writesstuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles accidentally magics and is sent back pre-Hale Fire </p><p> </p><p>  <span class="small">He’s going to kill Deaton when he finds him. Kill him dead. Why? If it wasn’t for Deaton giving him the book, and telling him how much of a ‘spark’ he had for things, and sending him off with nothing more than the instructions to ‘read up’, then he probably wouldn’t be in this mess.</span></p><p> </p><p>  <span class="small">‘This mess’ is being stranded in the forest at night, staring at a much younger looking Peter Hale. </span></p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling Ass Over Head

**Author's Note:**

> **-0-0-0-** means a time lapse
> 
> -0- means a different scene within the same time frame
> 
>  
> 
> I was on the Teen Wolf kink meme and seen this prompt and then went "huh I wanna see that" so here it is.  
> As always, unbeta'd because I'm horrible. All mistakes are my own.

He’s going to kill Deaton when he finds him. Kill him dead. Why? If it wasn’t for Deaton giving him the book, and telling him how much of a ‘spark’ he had for things, and sending him off with nothing more than the instructions to ‘read up’, then he probably wouldn’t be in this mess.

‘This mess’ is being stranded in the forest at night, staring at a much younger looking Peter Hale.

He knows it’s partially his fault. He is the one who memorised most of the book and would hum the words randomly as he did household chores. He can’t remember which incantation he had sang aloud for the duration of doing his laundry, but it couldn’t be _that_ hard to figure out which one it was.

Was it a de-aging spell? Was that it?

He’s staring at Peter with his jaw hanging open, and he can’t quite stop. Peter’s regarding him with interest but not much else. There’s no manic glee, or the spark of madness in Peter’s eyes any longer, and that probably throws him for a loop even more.

So not an aging spell. De-aging didn’t change people’s psyche, unless they also erased their memories, but he would have remembered that if he read it. And even if it was a de-aging spell, why would it work on _Peter_? Stiles didn’t even have to try to not think of Peter on a daily basis (which is probably why Peter always gets the upper hand in sneaking around.)

His heartbeat is beating a thousand miles a minute _at least_ , and he can feel the constricting pain of a panic attack coming on.

“You okay, kid?”

And of course Peter doesn’t know who he is. This Peter is probably almost 10 years younger. He scrabbles backwards, tries to talk but all he can do is repeat, “What?” and, “No,” in quick succession.

Peter’s looking a tad worried as he watches Stiles. “I’m Peter Hale—did you need something? Are you lost?”

Stiles says the first name that comes to mind, one that would surely help, even if this was the twilight zone and this Derek probably didn’t know who he was either. A familiar face that wasn’t Peter would probably help a bit, he reasoned. “Derek.”

Peter’s eyebrows rose at that. “Derek,” he echoed. “My nephew?” Stiles nodded emphatically.

There was a howl off in the distance and Stiles relaxed minutely. Werewolves—werewolves he could handle. Ex-crazy uncles he could not. Not properly at least.

Peter tensed and glanced around himself. Stiles still clung to the tree behind him. “Derek,” he repeated and Peter nodded. Walking forward, he peeled Stiles away from the tree and jerked his head towards the Hale house.

Stiles allowed himself to be dragged through the forest and underbrush of the denser bits and when they broke through to the clearing surrounding the house, Stiles’ breath caught as he stared up at the house in shock. Not that Derek wasn’t trying to build the house again (by himself, the idiot), but he hadn’t seen the house before the fire. The burned out carcass flashed through his mind as he was lead to the front steps.

Peter pushed him to sit down on the top step and disappeared into the house. A few moments later, after an eerie silence settled, the door opened and three people exited. Peter, another male, and a much younger looking Derek.

Stiles choked on his spit. The three stared at him before Derek leaned forward, looking confused and trying to subtly sniff the air. Stiles’ first spoken words were, “Hey, I thought we agreed you wouldn’t scent me, creeper-wolf!”

Derek looked properly chastened, but also confused. The man Stiles didn’t know looked between them. “How do you know each other?” he asked. He looked like Derek would, except older and not as muscled. Stiles felt his breath quicken and he stood to get off their porch.

“We don’t,” he said, and it wasn’t a complete lie, because he didn’t know the younger Derek. His eyes flicked between them and he stuttered out, “I have no idea why I’m here,” as he backed up. His jeep would’ve been right here, and he’d be gone, if this were the proper place and time. “What time is it? Day? Year?” he winced, “I should go—have to get home, it’s late, my dad-,” he choked on his words and flailed his arms around. His dad. Would anyone notice him gone?

“Dad,” Derek muttered. His dad, apparently, looked at him and nodded once. Derek was off the porch and standing in front of him. They were roughly the same height, and Derek was looking more scrawny than the one he knew and—knew. “Who are you?” he asked quietly.

Stiles opened and closed his mouth before blurting, “No one, I have to go, like I said—really, I’m sorry for disturbing-,” he tried to make a getaway by running, but _werewolf_. He whined as Derek had his wrist and was pulling him around to face him.

“Derek,” another voice joined them and it was as if this were some weird Derek induced dream where everyone was Derek, or a version. Girl Derek was watching them, and giving Derek an annoyed look. He felt Derek loosen his grip but he didn’t let go. “Who’s this?” she asked, with her eyebrows raised and looking expectant.

“We _don’t know_ , Laura,” Derek said with a slight glare. Stiles couldn’t help but stare openly at Laura. The last time he’d seen her, she was cut in half. And dead. “He says he doesn’t know us, but Uncle Peter said he asked for me, and he smells like me and wolf but he’s human-.”

“Hey, my body, my choice!”

Derek gave him a shrewd look before continuing. “He’s telling half truths, and he smells-,” he looked constipated, “He _smells_ …”

“Bring him in, then!” she sounded exasperated.

They did as she said. Must be the future-Alpha’s right to be bossy.

He was sat at the large kitchen table and Laura sat across from him. She was staring at him intently and he stared back, eyes wide. Again, seeing a dead person alive again—not a normal occurrence.

Peter notwithstanding.

“Who are you.”

“Stiles.”

“Last name.”

“You don’t talk with a lot of question marks, do you?” he bit the inside of his lips to stop himself from tacking on that Derek’s the same way.

She regarded him with a raised eyebrow. “What are you doing on our property?” she asked coolly.

He tried not to smile but shrugged, “I wandered in. Property boundaries aren’t very clear when there aren’t any signs.” It was true, too. The pack was always herding him back from crossing invisible wolf-lines when going out on full moon runs.

And he really did wander in. He was going to ask Derek if he had stolen the keys to his Jeep and took it for some reason, when he was intercepted by Peter. He picked at his nails, remembering not to chew them. One of his many tells, apparently. “Can you tell me what year it is?” he asked, looking innocent.

She looked at Peter, her dad, and then finally Derek. “I think we should bring in the big guns.” Stiles shrunk back in his chair as they all stared at him with varying expressions.

 _The big guns_ happened to be a petite woman, late 30s-early 40s, with warm brown eyes and a kind smile. Stiles buried his face in his hands. Werewolves, man; _fricken werewolves_.

“Hello, sweetie,” she said as she plied him with milk and cookies, while admonishing the others for not giving him some refreshments. Only they would think of ‘the big guns’ as a non-threatening looking woman who would sweeten him up and lower his defences. He briefly wondered why Derek didn’t use this trick, because it was working.

“I’m Laura and Derek’s mother,” she said as she sat beside him with her own glass of milk and a cookie. “They’re worried, you know,” she said conspiratorially. Stiles glanced at her as he bit into the chocolate chip goodness. “You smell so familiar, but you’re not…” she trailed off as her eyes flashed red. Stiles swallowed quickly. He looked at Derek’s dad in surprise because he could’ve sworn he would’ve been the Alpha. He looked back at her and almost bared his throat.

“I’m not a wolf,” he said finally when she continued staring at him expectantly, a smile on her face.

It really wasn’t fair. He couldn’t say no to moms—no one could, really. Especially not a mom who could easily tear his throat out. With her teeth. He fought back a smile at that and nodded his head to her. “Do you know Alan Deaton?” he asked. She blinked in surprise before nodding. “I need to see hi-.”

“He’s not in town, at the moment,” Derek’s dad said before he could finish his request. “Out on business,” he added, eyebrows rising and looking at Derek’s mom.

“Can I ask _your_ names?” he asked.

“Craig.” He said at the same time as she said, “Sheila.”

“That explains so much,” he said before he could help himself. He stopped and they all stared at him. “I mean…well, I said what I meant,” he shrugged and stood. “I really need to see Deaton, otherwise I’m screwed.”

“Why?” Sheila asked as she stood with him.

He took his glass to the sink and seemed to think it through. “If they think I’m crazy, they’re being hypocrites, because _werewolves_ ,” he muttered to himself as he washed the glass. “If they know Deaton, then they probably know he’s into that stuff-,” he could hear Craig choke on air. “So me being from the future is conceivable.”

“The _future_?” Laura asked, looking unconvinced.

“Yep,” Stiles dried his hands on a dish towel and beamed at her, “I’m from Beacon Hills, actually, so we’ll get that out of the way. Stiles Stilinski—the,” he stopped and did the calculations in his head, “Er, Deputy Stilinski’s kid. I’m probably 8 or so here, right?” he waited for the confirming date and nodded. After another long minute of silence and sitting back at the table, he looked at Derek, who was looking at the door, almost longingly. “And wow that’s awkward,” he scratched his nose, “So, you know the truth and how I need to go see Deaton, or at least break into his office at the clinic-.”

“We’re not letting you go committing crimes in another time,” Sheila said with a sigh.

“Why not?” Stiles wasn’t above whining. “It’s not like I’m even on any registries, or anything in this time! I’m 8!” he waved his hands around.

“No.” He didn’t press any because she was giving him a stern look. “Derek, bring him to your room and keep him there.” She stood, “We’ll try to contact Alan for you,” she added when Stiles squawked indignantly.

Derek was giving him a death glare as they walked up the flight of stairs and down the hall until they reached his room. Then he continued glaring as Stiles fell onto his bed and looked up at him. “Can we just split ways—you obviously want…” he stopped, pointed at Derek dramatically and scrambled off the bed. He started digging around Derek’s desk until he found a small desk calendar. Tapping along the small boxes, he counted until he found the date of the Hale Fire.

“ _Really_?” he said to himself with a groan. Exactly one month before the fire? He chewed on his nail and tried to think of why this would happen to him, and then he remembered that that was his life. His cursed horrible life. He had to have a reason for coming to this time, exactly. To change something. He looked at Derek with a calculating look, face screwed up in concentration. Derek wasn’t paying any attention to him, and was twitching as he stood just inside his room. He was staring out his window.

 “I have to go meet someone…tutoring…” Derek said lowly. Then it clicked for Stiles. Kate. He had to stop this. “You can read whatever you-.”

“Do you like comic books?” Stiles asked. Derek looked around and his eyebrows rose before nodding slowly. “Great, what do you have?” he asked, looking eager and hopeful. He kept glancing at the window himself, and the door, and smiling at Derek.

“They’re on the shelf.” Derek grabbed his jacket, “I have to go see my tutor-.”

“What do you need tutoring with?” Stiles asked quickly, a bit louder than needed. “I can help!” he needed to do something, didn’t he? “That way you can keep an eye on me, and get tutoring. I’m averaging an A, I can totally help you!” he stepped into Derek’s path to the door and beamed.

Derek scowled at him. He seemed to stare a hole straight through Stiles’ head and said, “I have to go to the library.”

“Dude, I’m a walking library, I can help, seriously!” he latched onto Derek’s arm and pulled him to sit at the desk. “Seriously,” he repeated as he grabbed the beanbag chair in the corner and wrestled it beside Derek.

Derek let out a breath and growled at him. “I don’t need _your_ help,” he said with a sneer.

“Uh yeah, you do,” Stiles didn’t elaborate and looked around them before spotting the packsack. He dove for it and then for the beanbag chair again. “What is it? Chemistry, math, English, Spanish—though that one is a bit iffy and I stopped taking it after 10th grade—are any of these ringing any bells up in your head?”

Derek glared at him before sighing slightly. “Chemistry.”

“Ah, the shit-acular subject. Is Harris teaching it?”

“What?”

“Never mind,” Stiles waved him off and pulled open the text. “What do you need help with…?”

Derek seemed pained to admit, “Everything.” When Stiles’ eyebrows rose, he added, “I just can’t seem to get the hang of it.”

“Ah,” Stiles nodded his head in camaraderie.

 

**-0-0-0-0-**

 

Stiles has to admit. Derek is persistent about secretly meeting Kate. He feels like a clingy girlfriend who needs to know every detail of Derek’s life and location. He’s wrung out by the end of week 1 of his visit. Laura’s watching him from across the table as he inhales the food her mom prepared.

“Where’s Derek?” she asked, eyebrows raised in question.

“With your dad, I think,” Stiles shrugged. “I’m not his keeper.” Except he totally was, and he’s never seen Derek more surly before. And this was Derek he was talking about. He finished his food and drink, did his dishes, and went off in search of them. They’re in the backyard, shirtless (and Stiles has to go ‘huh’ because obviously being shirtless was a learned thing), sniffing the air.

Craig is righting Derek’s posture when they both whip around to face him. Derek’s eyes are blue and Stiles starts because _oh yeah_ , they weren’t always red and Derek wasn’t always _‘I’m the Alpha, rawr’_. He waves back easily.

Craig grins at him and motions Derek over as he walked towards him. “How would you like to help Derek train?” he asked cheerfully.

Stiles shrugged because _sure_ , he could help. He did it enough with the puppies and Scott.

-0-

This was a horrible idea and he wishes he could go back even further in time to smack himself for agreeing, and to remind himself that he needs to get details before agreeing to anything a werewolf asks.

The mulch beneath his feet slips as he banks hard, falling ass over head and down a hill. He’s panting loudly because as soon as he heard the howl behind him, the self-preservation instinct (that was usually dormant) kicked in and he was sprinting through foliage. He can hear Derek behind him, barely loud enough for him to hear, and always just out of his line of sight. He ditches his jacket and ducks away, slipping through mud and moss.

His heart is pounding loud enough for him to hear and he covers his mouth to try to stop his loud breathing from giving him away too quickly. He calms down enough to be quiet as he sneaks around the base of the large tree.

A twig snaps to his left and he turns tail and starts sprinting again.

There’s a loud growl and then he’s being tackled. Derek’s body has his pressed into the ground. He spits out the mud and lets out a long groan. “ _You got me_ ,” he said when Derek refused to let up. He smacked at the hand ineffectively. He’s starting to notice their position and how Derek is leaning further into him and renews his hand-smacks. He can feel the line of heat from Derek’s person, pressing him down into the ground. He shudders as Derek breathes on his neck, “Nope, nope, _nope_ ,” he flails his arms around and even throws a handful of mud onto Derek.

The answering smack of slick mud hitting skin allows him precious few seconds to wriggle out from under Derek. Derek’s wiping the mud away from his face. Stiles snorts to himself before moving forward and pulling Derek’s hands away. “Stop moving, dude, come on,” he said as he lifted his shirt and started wiping at Derek’s face.

Derek blinks at him, his eyes changing from blue to their usual _human_ colour. “Sorry,” he grunted.

“Hey, no problem—still learning stuff, don’t expect you to be like my Dere-,” he stopped, stepped back and swung his arms back and forth, “Don’t expect you to be like…my…dream…wolf?” he makes a face because that’s probably _worse_ than what he was trying to cover up.

Derek gives him a funny look before shaking his head and standing. They make their way back towards where Stiles ditched his sweater, and then back to the Hale house. There isn’t much to say between them, but Stiles thinks Derek’s much less likely to threaten him to shut up, if he rambles.

“So, you know, in my time, you have a leather jacket,” he said conversationally. “And you’re like _ripped_ and it’s insane that you’re that muscular,” Derek looks at him and snorts. “No, seriously, people probably think you’re on steroids,” he nudges Derek as they walk, “That is how big you are.”

“And that’s supposed to interest me how?”

“Don’t you want to be big bad Alpha werewolf?” he stops because Derek isn’t meant to be an alpha, probably doesn’t have plans on becoming one anytime in the near future, either.

“I’m a beta. How I am right now is good enough.” Derek glances at him before looking straight again, “Besides, I don’t hear complaints.”

Stiles snorts because, “Of course he hears no complaints; he’s already hotter than Adonis, probably.” He stops and curses the lack of brain to mouth filter. He’s better than this—hell, _his_ (not _his_ ) Derek probably doesn’t even know he’s been harboring a horrible horrible crush on him for the last few months. He looks at Derek, who seems to be preening to himself. Of course pre-fire Derek is a bit of an arrogant ass.

No one that hot cannot see that they’re not that hot.

He pauses to rethink that wording before giving up. It’s a lost cause. They reach the clearing and Craig looks amused as he dismisses them. Derek’s heading into the house and is stripping himself down as Stiles follows him. “No shame at all,” he comments.

Derek pauses and turns to him with a confused look. “I didn’t expect you to follow me,” he pointed out as he stood in front of the upstairs bathroom. “I’m going to shower, and then I’m going into town.” He waited for Stiles to step back before shutting the door. Stiles stared at the door before running down to the front and turning on the hose to rinse himself down. He cursed loudly as the icy water sprayed the mud from his clothes. He stripped to his boxers, ran inside to Derek’s room, and decided that stealing clothes from Derek wouldn’t get him maimed.

He was pulling on a green shirt when Derek reappeared. Derek stared at him before shaking his head and sighing. “Where are we going?” Stiles asked cheerfully.

Derek pushed him from the room, saying, “ _I’m_ going into town. _You_ are staying here with the pack.”

“But _Derek_ ,” he whined, only to have the door slammed in his face. It was a miracle he moved before it could break his nose. He pouted dramatically at the door until it was opened again. Derek gave him a frustrated look. “I can smell your desperation. _Why_ do you need to cling to me?” he asked with a glare.

Stiles shrugged. “I don’t really know anyone else?”

“You can get to know my parents and sister, and whoever else comes around, then,” Derek said as he brushed past Stiles. Stiles watched him go with a scowl before trekking down the stairs and into the sitting room. He picked up the nearest book and started reading. Sheila entered the room, took a book of the shelf, and reads with him, occasionally making comments on their books. Stiles thinks he really loves Sheila. He can see where Peter and Derek get their sass.

“You know, in my time, there are four turned betas that are turned, because they need it, and they’re awesome.” He said to her as he flipped a page. “Erica Reyes, Isaac Lahey, Scott Mccall, and Vernon Boyd—though to be fair, Boyd doesn’t _need_ to be turned, he’s more of a person who needs a friend and you know, he’s got pack now.” Stiles made a face, “Any word from Deaton yet?”

She shook her head, “Nothing yet—we’ve emailed him, called him, and even written him a letter—we’ve got nothing.”

“That’s crappy,” Stiles said with a sigh.

“Was there a point to telling me the names of pack members?”

“Yeah, they’re awesome and you’d be happy to have them in your pack?” She laughed but gave him a smile over the top of her book.

**-0-0-0-**

Derek ditches him two more times within the next week and Stiles is starting to feel the dread as the date draws closer. He doesn’t know how to convince Derek to stop seeing Kate, short of telling him about the horror that awaits him if he doesn’t.

He doesn’t think going, “Hey, your girlfriend is a psycho hunter who doesn’t follow the code and will burn your family alive in your own house after you fall in love and you tell her you’re a werewolf,” will go well.

**-0-0-0-**

 

He’s sitting in Laura’s room at the two week mark, head pillowed on her lap. “I have a problem.”

“Is it a boy problem?” she asked, scratching along his scalp and reading a comic book.

Ignoring how transparent he is to werewolves, he shrugs. “Somewhat.” Stiles makes a face as he dog-ears his book and stares up at her face. “It’s a Derek problem.”

“What’s he done now?”

He can’t say ‘nothing’, because that would be a lie and she’d hear it. “I kind of _really_ like him in my time. Like, it’s crazy how much affection I can feel for this asshole that used to throw me into walls and threatened to tear my throat out with his teeth-.”

“That sounds more like a come on, than a threat…”

“Right?” Stiles nodded his head slightly, “But I don’t think it is, because my—Derek from my time—is emotionally constipated and it probably hurts him to smile, is what I’m saying.”

She gave him a confused look before frowning slightly. “So what do you want me to do?”

“Nothing, I just need advice, because I feel like he’s going to go down a bad path soon and I need to change it, and I really like you guys because you guys have let me steal your food and clothes and haven’t even asked for payment, and I realize I’m annoying and spastic, but I am competent with a lot of stuff, but changing Derek’s mind is not something I’m good at, because he likes to be contrary with me and—I just need help?”

Laura blinked at him and continued scratching his head as she thought. “What’s he _going_ to do?”

Stiles made a face. “He’s not going to do anything, it’s the actions of someone else…” he worried his bottom lip. Sitting up, he stretched and said, “I’ll figure it out.”

“Are you sure? I can help if you just tell me-?” He shook his head, gave her a quick smile and then left her room.

**-0-0-0-**

 

“You’re going again?” Stiles asked, looking wary. It’s only been two days since he last left to ‘go to the library’.

“Yes.” Derek shrugged his new leather jacket on, and Stiles had to try not to smirk. “Why? You’re not coming with me.”

“Rude.” Stiles watched as he left before going to boot up the family computer.

He had to find Chris Argent. The searches didn’t show anything useful, so he typed in ‘Victoria Argent’. Her website for whatever it was that she did pop up and he shuddered because out of everyone they’ve faced, she was probably the scariest. Right after the Wendigo. She would’ve been a fierce werewolf, he muses, as he pulls up her contact info. Jotting it down, he hitches a ride into town with Peter. After two hours of following Kate, who he figured would be staying at the Motel 8, like every other baddy they faced, he figures he has enough information and finds a payphone.

The first call is short because he says the word ‘werewolf’ and Victoria slams the receiver down. He calls again and says that Allison will be in danger if she doesn’t listen to him. It’s not a lie, because if this happens, Laura will be killed and the Argents will move to town, then Allison will fall for Scott, which will kick start her huntress career, and then they’ll be in constant danger. Really, he’s doing them a service. The line stays deathly quiet before she’s hissing, _“What do you want?”_

He gets Chris’ personal office number and calls it as soon as he’s hung up the phone. Chris is gruff, and angry, and sounding like he does now. “Listen.” He grasps at straws, “I’m a fellow hunter. I live by the code, but that’s not important. Kate came to me at the beginning of the month, spewing this plan to seduce a werewolf for information…”

_“Why would she do that?”_

He makes a face. Why would he know what goes on in Kate’s mind? “I don’t know. She just said she’s already got a target—the Hale pack. You know the one in Beacon Hills?”

_“Yes. They follow the code, though—why would she-?”_

“How should I know?” Stiles’ voice does not crack. “Listen, she’s got a kid fooled and I think she’s close to-to her target…she said something about burning them…” he swallows, because he’s got to make this seem legitimate. “I’m not saying you need to come get her and put a stop to this, but she’s blatantly not following the code, and I know for a fact that we put down hunters who don’t.”

_“Are you threatening us?”_

“No!” Stiles cringes at the slightly hysterical note. He calms himself, “I’m saying that either you stop her, or I’ll call some other hunters who take the code as seriously as you.” That’s a complete lie, because he doesn’t know anyone who takes the code as seriously as Argent, nor any other hunters in general.

_“Where’s she staying?”_

“The Motel 8 in Beacon Hills’ downtown. She’s posing as a Student Teacher at the high school for Chemistry and they usually meet at the public library at 7 on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays.” He takes a shallow breath. “Get her before the week is up, preferably,” and then he hangs up and walks back to where Peter’s working. He sits there, shaking from the adrenaline, waiting for Peter to be done work.

 

**-0-0-0-**

 

“Why are you clinging to me?” Derek asked, while shaking Stiles off his arm until the other stood straight.

They stare at each other for a moment before Stiles shrugged. “I figure there’s a reason I was sent here, even if it was my own fault for singing an incantation _but that’s not the point_ ,” he waved his hands in Derek’s face to stave off the interruption. “I don’t think it has anything to do with your pack here, because I don’t even _know_ your pack—the only person I know from here is you, and my parents but they can’t know who I am or anything because what if a wormhole opens up? Do you want that on your conscience Derek? I don’t. So, until I change what needs to be changed, I’m clinging to the only thing slash person I know.”

Derek let out a long breath and gave him an expectant look. “What do you need to change?”

Stiles drew back and opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again and then laughed nervously. “You…you don’t _need_ to know, do you?” he waved Derek off. “I mean, it’s not like your entire life is on the line, right?” he scoffed and stepped back, “Right, well, I’ll let you go to town and maybe we can get ice cream another time, because who doesn’t like ice cream, right? I personally like-.”

“What are you hiding?” Derek asked suspiciously, dragging him into the room and then slamming him into the now closed door.

“Other than my deep hatred for doors at the moment?” Stiles tried. Derek flashed his eyes and bared his teeth. “And maybe that I know who you want to go meet and how you’re leaving _her_ waiting again?”

Derek let go of him, as if burned. “What?” He looks incredibly young in that moment and Stiles _can’t_ hold it in. He’s sure Derek from his time would do the same thing, maybe say the same thing. Probably smack this Derek around, but Stiles won’t, because he doesn’t want to lose a hand.

“I— _why_ are you so _stupid_?” Stiles asked and held up his hands when Derek growled again. “I’m just saying!” He pushed off the door and poked Derek’s chest. “What’s her name, how old is she, and why do you like her?”

“Why does that matter?”

“ _Because you are a kid_ , like me!” Stiles waved his hands around. Derek covered his mouth, only to have his hand licked. He pulled it away with a disgusted glare. “If I were you, I wouldn’t go and fall for-,” he stopped because he did exactly what Derek did. He fell for a 20-something who was (probably, not really) bad for him. Well, at least Derek wouldn’t burn his dad alive in a house fire, he reasons.

He ran a hand over his face and groaned to himself. “Go, go and see that psycho.” He fell onto Derek’s bed. Might as well try reverse psychology. “Go, and see her, and stare her in the eyes, and you listen to every little thing she tells you, because why not? Not like she’s a hunter or anything…” he has his face covered but peeks through a gap in his fingers.

Derek’s staring at him with an unreadable expression before walking out the door.

And of course Derek just has to be contrary. He glares at the closed door as hard as he can.

-0-

In the past 3 days, he’s spent a lot of time in town, spying on both Argents. Chris arrived approximately 2 days after his call.

He borrowed Peter’s car one such Friday, claiming to want ice cream and needing to go into town. He did want ice cream, but he wasn’t going to actually get some.

Ditching the car about 2 blocks from where Kate’s staying, he has himself drenched in body spray and is watching as she tries to both undress Derek, and drag him towards the room at the same time. It’s like a car wreck. He can’t look away. He ducks down as Chris’ SUV pulls into the lot. He stares as Argent (why is everyone so attractive and young?) steps out of the vehicle, clears his throat loud enough that _Stiles_ can hear it, and says something to the shocked pair.

Kate lets go of Derek and steps away while Chris waves around his crossbow, going on about the code and how they follow it, just like the Hale pack, and Derek’s frozen in shock, the only part moving is his eyes where he’s following the movement of the bow.

Stiles takes off, back to the Hale house.

-0-

It’s close to midnight when Derek opens his window and climbs through. He falls onto the bed without removing the hoodie he’s wearing, or his shoes. Stiles jerks up and falls off the bed, only to look up and spot Derek. He glares again, because he’s still mad, but climbs onto the bed and tugs at the sneakers Derek’s still sporting. “You are such a caveman,” he comments as he maneuvers Derek around to remove the sweater.

“Shut up.”

“Why’re you out so late? What will your parents say?” Stiles tsk’d dramatically. “I mean, _werewolves_ dude, there’s no sneaking around with them, so why even bother?” he waits for Derek to grunt, or answer—any reaction, but Derek remains silent. “You know I’m right! I’ve tried telling the puppies to stop sniffing me because _boundaries_ but do you do anything to back me up? Nope.” He lets Derek fall back onto the bed and lies next to him because _he was_ _here first_ , and starts staring up at the ceiling. “You just do that smirk of yours and they take that as an okay and continue using me as bait and practice, and then they try to rub all up in my business?”

“What are you _talking_ about?” Derek asked with a groan.

Stiles opened his mouth, frowned, and then shrugged. “Sorry, keep forgetting I’m not in my time and you’re not a sourwolf—I called you that once, to your face, but I say it to myself once in a while because it was great and brilliant, but you kind of just…gave me the look I’m getting right now…” he trailed off as Derek stared at him.

“Sourwolf?” his eyebrows did this weird move that conveyed amusement and annoyance and intrigue. “How close _are_ we?”

Stiles opened his mouth and then frowned to himself, “Fairly?”

“We’re only _fairly_ close?” Derek leaned forward and sniffed before making a face, “You sort of smell like me…?”

“Eau de Stilinski is what you smell; I ain’t no man’s prize.”

Derek stared at him before smiling, “I have no idea how to react to that.”

“I have no idea what the last bit means, either,” Stiles shrugs and then turns to face Derek. “So, gossip with me, sister.” He snaps his fingers, “Tell me how it went so I can pick at every detail until you want to kill me.”

Derek rolled his eyes but sighed, “We met at the library and then went for a drive.”

Stiles waited for more, but none came. “That’s it?”

“We talked.”

“That’s it?”

“We were about to…” he trailed off and shook his head, “Some guy—brother, it seemed, came and told her to stop whatever it was she was doing, and to leave the Hale pack—he said _pack_ —alone.”

Stiles feigned surprised but then nodded, “Makes sense,” he said and rolled onto his back again. “Lull you in with conversation and flirty smiles, fucks you, and then gets whatever information she wants from you,” he has a hand covering his mouth again.

Glancing to the side, he spots the colour rising in Derek’s cheeks, and has to smirk to himself. “She’s not like that,” Derek grumbles.

“Oh really?” Stiles tries, but it comes out muffled.

“Yes.”

“Tell me why.” Again, muffled but coherent enough to pick apart.

Derek’s not saying anything until he’s breathing into the side of Stiles’ neck. Stiles allows it because he’s a teenage boy and it’s Derek. “She treats me like an adult.”

“Gross.”

“Shut up.” He pauses and says, “I feel… _normal_ with her.” He removes his hand to pillow his head with his arms.

“Well that’s stupid,” Stiles said eventually.

Derek glances at him and sighs. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“No, I do,” Stiles nodded as he thought of how to word his response. “I get wanting to feel normal—I would love to feel normal while still knowing there are things that go bump in the night, but that’s just it!” He can feel an epic ramble coming on. “We are not _normal_ ,” he waves his hands in a way to show encompassing an entire spectrum. “We’re not normal at all. I’ve got ADHD and I can’t function normally because my brain is constantly firing off at least 20 different things at once, and I’m still trying to get used to walking without falling over, to be honest, and I’m apparently supernatural catnip that just attracts the weirdoes in droves, but that’s okay because I’ve got you guys, and my dad, who love me even when I do get annoying.” He turns onto his side and grins at Derek, “And you—you’re a _werewolf_. You’re supernatural personified, dude. Like, there is no way you’ll ever be _normal_ , and that’s a _great_ thing, because who likes normal? No one. Normal is very boring, let me tell you. And you have your _pack_! Your pack is amazing. Even Peter doesn’t give off this creeper-vibe the way he does in my time.”

“If you’re not normal, how do you know how it feels?” Derek drawled.

“Because before Scott got bit, I _was_ normal, and it was horrendously boring.” Stiles waved his hands above him. “Do you hear me, though? Is it getting through to you?” he asked. “You need someone who loves you for you—not someone who thinks you’re a monster-.”

“She doesn’t know-.”

“Oh, believe me, she does.” He paused before making a face. “Sorry, that was…not supposed to come up…”

“She knows?”

“Yeah,” Stiles reaches to the side and finds the top of Derek’s head. He starts petting. “What did she entrap you with?”

“What?”

“How’d she meet you and all that.” He needed Derek to think, to talk.

Derek sounded tired. Completely tired. “Student teacher. Chemistry. Offered to tutor me since I wasn’t doing so well…” he made a face and buried his face in his arms, “I didn’t even know she was flirting with me for the entire first two weeks, until she kissed me.”

“Gross.”

“Why’s it gross?”

Stiles shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, I guess it wouldn’t be as gross as I’m making it out to be, if I didn’t know what she was capable of?”

“Was?”

Stiles coughed into the hand that wasn’t still petting Derek’s head. “Yeah…um…an alpha killed her in my time.” Derek tensed. “But hey, since you’re not going to see her anymore, why worry, right?”

Derek stopped moving his head into Stiles’ hand to give him a confused look. “I’m not?”

“Nope!” Stiles beamed as he continued scratching his nails along Derek’s scalp.

Derek frowned as he unconsciously moved into the touch, “Why not?”

“Why would you _want_ to?” Stiles is beyond confused. “I mean, I— _Jesus_ ,” he pulls his hand away and sits up. Derek follows him, still looking confused. Stiles sighs dramatically and moves forward to press a kiss to Derek’s lips, only catching the side and then waving his arm around expectantly. “Have you seriously been oblivious to all the tension and-and wolfy things you do when you’re around me?” he asked in exasperation. He’s noticed it, but that’s only because Derek _sucks_ at keeping up the stony faced silence he has perfected in the present.

Derek shrugged his shoulders. Stiles sighed to himself and gave Derek a small smile. “Another day, then,” he said and stood to leave the room.

 

**-0-0-0-**

 

Another day actually means five days later, when Derek opens his door to find Stiles sprawled on his bed with a book. He scents the air and moves forward, crawling along his bed until he’s looming over Stiles.

“Hey, creeper,” Stiles says airily, glancing up and quirking a smile. Derek stares down at him. “There was a fire.”

Stiles drops his book and sits up. They’re only a few inches apart. “What? Where? Who?!”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Another pack—last night…a few counties over,” he screwed up his face, “Kate-.”

“Was the one who set it and she was either killed or arrested, because she didn’t have all the info she needed, because she didn’t seduce any of those werewolves like she did you, right?”

“What?”

“What?”

Derek rubbed the bridge of his nose. “She was killed, yes, but-,” he scrubbed at his face, “Is that seriously what happened in your time?” he sounded worried. “If you weren’t around, or that guy who took her away—that would have happened to my fam-,” he didn’t finish as Stiles nodded his head. Derek looked wrecked. Stiles reached out and patted Derek’s arm.

The door opened and Peter poked his head in. “Deaton’s on the phone,” he raised an eyebrow at the pair, smirked, and closed the door again.

Stiles looked between them, at the sparse space and smiled slightly. “So, since Deaton’s finally coming back, I’m probably going to be going back to my time…” he trailed off as he thought it over. “And…wow, this is going to be sad!”

“What?”

“Well, I’m going back to my time, right? But me-in-this-time is only 8, and you’re like, 16, and we don’t know each other in this time and-.”

“I’ll find you.”

Stiles blinked up at Derek, looking surprised before grinning and pulling the other boy down. In between quick kisses, he said, “Don’t be a creeper, though, that might just get my dad to arrest you.”

**-0-0-0-**

 

Deaton returns two days after the Hale fire was supposed to happen. It doesn’t take long for Stiles to tell him what happened, and then they’re in the vet’s back room, where Deaton tells Stiles exactly what he has to do to return to his time.

Stiles says he’s going to throttle Deaton in his time for being far too cryptic to be any help and then goes about doing his duty.

**-0-0-0-**

He’s blinking at the sunlight and wonders what’s going on, because he’s in the exact spot he was when Peter found him. He looks around. It’s the bright, warmly lit Beacon Hills forest that he left one month previous. He wonders if it’s all different now, of what’s the same, and then he’s collapsing as new memories flood his mind.

When it’s all over and he’s seeing stars because ‘ _how is this his life, seriously?_ ’, he hears footsteps. Multiple footsteps. Hands are on his shoulders, cradling his face and Derek’s face swims into view. “Oh, hi.”

Derek snorts and says, “Oh, hi?” Derek pulls him to his feet and he has to reach out and touch, because this Derek is his Derek— _his Derek_ —and he’s allowed, but also because this is _Derek_. He’s in the right time.

He almost sobs with relief and surges forward to kiss Derek. They’re gripping at each other as if this was all new—and really, it was for Stiles—when they’re interrupted by giggles and a pointed cleared throat. They turn and stare at the pack—Laura at the head of them—who are trying and failing at keeping straight faces. Stiles detaches himself from Derek and stumbles forward to hug the four turned wolves, and then he’s gripping Laura so tightly he’s hurting himself.

“You’re going to hurt yourself, kid,” Laura said with a laugh.

“Too late.” He felt arms circle him from behind while Derek attempted to dislodge him. “Can’t stop, won’t stop,” he said firmly.

They end up in an awkward group hug when the puppies join in.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, running on fumes. I haven't slept yet and it's almost noon, and I woke up yesterday and help~ my endings are mehhhh


End file.
